


Drunk On Rose Water

by RedTeamShark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Bladder Control, Blow Jobs, Desperation, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humiliation, M/M, Objectification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Negotiated Kink, Sub Clint Barton, Threats of Public Humiliation, Wetting, mean dom bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: Talking about him like he’s not human, like he’s barely there, like he doesn’t matter.Fuck, that’s hot.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106
Collections: After Dark Presents Nutvember 2020





	Drunk On Rose Water

**Author's Note:**

> Title Inspo: Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

Bucky’s hand on his knee may as well be a collar around his neck.

It’s about as subtle, the way his boyfriend keeps a possessive grip on him, the way Clint quietly defers to Bucky for all decision making. They can’t play like this back home, but in a part of the world where no one recognizes their faces?

Well, it’s just more fun.

Clint shifts in his seat, looking at the full glass of expensive wine in front of him. The third such drink Bucky’s ordered for him, along with four bottles of water earlier in the day. His bladder is already uncomfortably full and he’s expected to eat and drink whatever is put in front of him. Bucky’s too busy talking to the man across the table, some businessman that they’re feigning an interest in investing in. 

The hand on his knee moves up higher, squeezes his thigh. _Be still_.

He goes still, only moving to lift his wine glass and drink. Clint doesn’t even pretend to pay attention to the conversation. He’s just there to look pretty on Bucky’s arm, tonight.

By the time the businessman leaves, he feels like his eyes are swimming in his skull. Clint grabs Bucky’s sleeve before someone else can walk up, leaning in to his side and whispering, quiet and desperate, “please?”

“No,” Bucky whispers back, his hand sliding up from Clint’s knee, up his thigh and between his legs. He squeezes gently, a sensation that _almost_ feels good until he grinds the heel of his hand right into Clint’s aching bladder. “Not yet. Finish your wine.”

There aren’t tears in his eyes, but it’s a near thing. “Yes, sir.” His voice is choked, strained with the effort to keep it in--both the growing need to piss and the urge to just start begging.

Clint makes it through another endless conversation and the rest of his glass of wine, but his squirming is becoming more obvious by the minute. The woman across the table pauses in the midst of her negotiations, eyes sharp on him. He’s too lost in his own head to catch all of her words, but her tone comes through loud and clear. Disdainful, as if he’s a misbehaving animal that shouldn’t be there. Bucky’s answer is just sound in his head, but he hears the light tone of dismissiveness. Talking about him like he’s not human, like he’s barely there, like he doesn’t matter.

Fuck, that’s hot.

She finally leaves and Bucky flags down a waiter. Clint swallows in a whimper, sure that there’s about to be another drink placed in front of him, but all Bucky gets is the check. He stands and stretches, then guides Clint up, starts towards the exit.

Two steps in and it’s all he can do not to collapse, not to cross his legs and hold his crotch. Clint grips the sleeve of Bucky’s nice jacket tightly, his eyes on the floor. “ _Please_.”

“No.”

That word is like a punch in the gut. His eyes fill with tears involuntarily, his breath choking in his throat. He’s not going to make it much longer. “I can’t--”

“If you need it so badly, do it right here.”

That freezes him for a moment, looking around the fancy restaurant. No one is _actually_ watching them, but Clint feels like all eyes are on him. Heat flashes through him, his head tipping down, eyes on the floor as he shakes his head. “I can wait, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.” Bucky’s hand moves to the back of his neck, thumb rubbing soothingly at the base of his skull as he leads the way outside. Their hotel is a five minute walk away. Then it’s up the elevator into their hotel room and then, surely, Bucky will let him piss.

Halfway there he has to double over and retch from the sharp pains that accompany walking. Bucky stands next to him, rubs his back and lets him get himself under control again. Clint straightens out slowly, gives a shallow nod that he’s okay at the look on Bucky’s face, and they keep walking. Two minutes to the hotel, maybe four minutes to the bathroom.

He has a moment of panic as they walk into the hotel lobby and he spots the _Out Of Order_ sign on the elevator. Climbing the stairs to their room sounds impossible. But this is a fancy hotel, just like they were at a fancy restaurant, and there’s more than one elevator. Bucky leads him into the second opulent lift, presses the button for their floor and, as soon as the doors are closed, presses Clint up against the wall.

His mouth is demanding, hot against Clint’s lips, more teeth than tongue. Bucky presses tight to him, slots a leg between his thighs and grinds upwards, turning Clint’s groan into a sharp noise of pain. “I should tie you up,” Bucky whispers, moving down to Clint’s neck. “String you up so that your toes are barely on the ground and watch you squirm. Put you right out on the balcony, so everyone else can see you. You’re my pretty little pet, why wouldn’t I want to show you off?” His hand slips down, into Clint’s pants slowly. “I’ll let them watch you get more and more desperate, until you can’t help but let go. Make a mess all over yourself, get my property dirty.” He squeezes Clint’s cock, draws a yelp from him as his hips jerk involuntarily. “Then I’ll let them watch as I punish you for it. Bend you over and spank you, make you thank me for each one, for reminding you of your place. I’ll fuck you over the balcony and you’ll be so, _so_ grateful for my cock, won’t you?”

“Y… yes, sir,” Clint manages to pant out, his eyes flashing to the side as the elevator stops before their floor. Bucky’s off him before the doors have even opened, looking perfectly composed, leaving Clint panting against the wall and trying to pull himself together. He gets upright just as a man and a woman step inside, gives them a shaky nod and shuffles closer to Bucky’s side.

Bucky drapes an arm over his shoulders, leans in and barely breathes the words into his ear. “I could leave you in this elevator, bent over with your ass on display. Put _Property of Bucky Barnes_ on your thighs and see how many people dare to touch what’s mine. Wouldn’t even have to tie you up to get you to stay, would I?”

Clint shakes his head, biting down on his lip. His eyes are locked on the number display of the elevator, watching as their floor gets closer and closer.

Finally, _finally_ they get off the elevator, to their floor and into their room. Clint looks at the bathroom, his desperation to piss back stronger than his arousal. It’s _right there_. He swallows, drops his eyes to the ground and tries to keep his voice even. “Please?”

“I think…” Bucky puts a finger under his chin, tips his head up gently. “I want you to blow me, first. Really earn it.”

He could cry. He could really just start crying, just lose control of everything and--Clint sniffs it in, nodding once. “Yes, sir.” He lowers carefully to his knees, reaches up to undo Bucky’s pants, and the man above him _tsks_ softly. Immediately, Clint freezes.

“In the bathroom,” Bucky says, walking to the room. He glances over his shoulder, grinning wickedly. “You can crawl, since you’re already down there.”

It’s almost a relief, not to have to try to stand up again. Almost, but then he _does_ start crawling and oh, that’s _so much_ worse. Clint stops after barely a foot, squeezing his legs together tightly. He shuffles into the bathroom, kneels in front of Bucky and forces his breathing back under control. 

“What a good pet you are.” Bucky threads a hand into his hair, tilts his head up and smiles gently. “You’re such a good boy for me.”

For a moment, he melts at the words, all his muscles going slack and soft--and then immediately tightening up again, a pang shooting through his abdomen as he denies himself the relief once more. Clint leans into Bucky’s hand, trying to put a smile on his face. “Thank you, sir. Can I suck your cock, please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Bucky unzips his pants, unbuttons them and scoots them down his hips just enough to free himself. He leans back against the wall, one hand stroking through Clint’s hair slowly. “Mouth open.”

Clint opens his mouth, lets the grip on his hair guide him forward. He doesn’t suck yet, just moves his tongue as Bucky eases him up and down. He’s just a hole to be used, no mind of his own, and his brain fuzzes out pleasantly at the thought, body falling into the rhythm and taking over. When Bucky holds him down, Clint looks up, knowing that the other man likes to see him take it in his throat. When the hand on his hair changes from guiding to merely resting, Clint goes to work, bobbing his head himself and swallowing, running his tongue over the length of Bucky’s cock, circling the head.

He’d be further out of it, but every time he starts to fall into the pattern, into the easy emptiness of his own quiet mind, his aching bladder pulls him back. Clint’s face is flushed, tears in his eyes even though Bucky’s not being that rough with him. He can’t keep his own hips still, can’t keep his hands from gripping his own crotch. Not for pleasure, but for pressure, to hold back the flow he wants to release.

“Hold still,” Bucky whispers when Clint’s all the way down, lips stretched obscenely around the base of his cock, watering eyes cast upward. He forces his whole body to be still, feeling his throat spasm around the head of Bucky’s cock involuntarily. Bucky strokes one finger against the side of his face, slides it down to his chin and collects some of the drool gathering there. “Oh, you’re such a pretty plaything… But I can’t help but notice where your hands are, darling. You know the rules, no touching yourself without permission.”

He can’t even whimper. Clint squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before pulling his hands away from his crotch and planting them on the wall on either side of Bucky’s hips.

“That’s a good boy. If you want attention like that, you know you have to earn it.” The hand pats his cheek, gently, not quite a punishment. Fingers stroke through his hair, holding tight as Bucky lazily rolls his hips forward. Clint rocks with it, swallows around him and looks up once again.

 _Please_ , he tries to beg with his gaze, and Bucky grins.

“I’ll make you a deal, because you’re such a good boy. If you piss before I finish, I won’t punish you for ruining your nice clothes. But,” his hips jerk forward again and Clint chokes a little, fingers spasming against the wall. “But… if you can’t let go for me, I’m going to drag you outside and make you do it there, _then_ punish you right on the street.”

It’s definitely the worst of the two options. He doesn’t want to piss outside, in front of strangers and he _definitely_ doesn’t want to be punished in public. Clint whines softly, starting to move his tongue again. He needs to force his tightly clenched muscles to relax, needs to make himself let go of his control. There’s a second edge to the sword, however: if he focuses too much on himself and not on pleasing Bucky, that’s worthy of its own punishment.

And Bucky’s certainly not helping, his hand gentle on Clint’s head, making him do the work rather than just using him. 

He’s so achingly full, it should be easy to let go. It should have already happened, truth be told, but he’s been told _no_ and _wait_ all night and now, even with permission, his body is holding back. He still has his _shoes o_ n for gods sake, he can’t just piss himself on the floor with a cock in his throat.

Clint’s not even aware that the tears in his eyes have overflowed until Bucky wipes them off his cheeks. “You need help?” he asks softly, bracing his shoulders more firmly against the wall. He lifts one foot, presses the toes of his shoe against Clint’s lower stomach gently. “Keep your mouth busy.”

The pressure of a foot on his bladder is torture, pure and simple. Every muscle in Clint’s body goes rigid with the effort to keep it in, his mouth flooding with spit as panic dumps adrenaline into his brain. Clint tries to focus on Bucky’s cock, Bucky’s pleasure, because to think of anything else at this moment is too much.

He’s not even aware when it happens, only knows that he’s sobbing around the twitching cock in his mouth, warm cum choking into his throat and dripping down his chin. There’s warmth between his legs, too, soaking his pants and dripping onto the floor. Clint lets himself be pulled off Bucky’s cock by his hair, drops his head heavily against Bucky’s hip and just sobs. Relief, humiliation, desperation--he doesn’t even know anymore.

His head is distant and fuzzy, reality just indistinct shapes and sounds in a fog. Standing up, taking his clothes off, Bucky’s naked body against his and warmth all around them. Hands running over his skin, a voice whispering in his ear. A fluffy towel drying him off and a fluffier bathrobe keeping him warm as he lies down on the softest, silkiest sheets that have ever touched his skin.

When he finally comes back to clear reality, he’s lying in bed with Bucky, the TV on low in the background and a hand brushing through his hair. Clint blinks the room into focus, leans up and kisses his boyfriend gently. “Love it when you’re mean.”

Bucky laughs, kissing the tip of his nose. “Welcome back to the world of the coherent. You need anything? Glass of water?”

He probably does, but the thought of _more_ liquid inside him right now makes Clint groan. “Fuck you.”

**Author's Note:**

> And thus ends the wonderful Nutvember, with me being Extra Nasty.


End file.
